Just a trick I picked up in the circus
by PowerOfPens
Summary: Five times Clint used the skills he picked up in the circus to help the Avengers and the time he used them to become one.
1. Eggs! To arms!

**This is a series of short stories that focuses on when Clint uses his time in the circus for good as an Avenger.**

 **Pop**

Bruce was angry. It was petty really, but he had been awake for two days strait, none of his experiments had worked and he had had just about enough of Tony's teasing. He should have extricated himself hours ago, but really wanted tea. So, he went to the kitchen. Tony, Clint and Natasha were already there. Tony was making an omelet, but he hadn't noticed Bruce walk in. The engineer took two eggs from the fridge and turned right into Bruce. Tony grabbed the other man from instinct and Bruce felt the gooey inside of the egg run down his back.

'SMASH!' The Hulk roared inside of him.

'NO,' Bruce thought, 'It was an accident, don't let it get to you.'

He gripped the counter, trying to regain control.

"Brucie! Are you alright?" Tony called to him.

"Oh no," Natasha said, "He's Hulking out!"

Clint ran to the fridge and grabbed three eggs.

"Hey Bruce! Look at me!"

Then the archer started juggling all three eggs at once. The Hulk subsided, more confused now, than angry.

Clint continued his act for a good five minutes then he caught one egg in each hand and took a bow, purposefully letting the third egg fall and break on his head.

Bruce laughed, hard. When he calmed down, he looked ashamed.

"Sorry guys. I was already frustrated and tiered when I walked in, I should have taken a breather sooner."

"It's ok, Bruce. We know how careful you normally are." Natasha told him with a small smile.

"And Thank you Clint. The Other guy and I thought it was really funny. How did you do that?" Bruce asked. Clint shrugged.

"It's just a trick I picked up at the circus. One of the clowns taught me." Clint touched his hair and winced. "I guess we both need a bath." Everyone laughed at that.


	2. Back Breaking Shot

Why did Natasha always seem to get herself into these types of situations? Clint and Nat were caught by Hydra while doing some snooping. She took a moment to examine their situation. A bare concrete room with a wooden door. Their wrists were cuffed to the floor so that they were lying side by side. The cuffs were mechanical, activated by a button in front of Clint, but too far out of reach. Clint's bow, along with his last arrow lay at his feet. Natasha Romanoff was out of ideas.

"I have an idea." Clint proclaimed.

Clint swung his legs closer to her hands.

"Take off my boots."

"What!"

"Do it Nat. Trust me." Clint was serious. That didn't happen very often.

She did as she was told.

"Socks too."

She pulled off his socks.

Then he did something incredible. He used his toes to pick up his bow and arrow. Then, placing his palms on the floor, he flipped his legs over his head like a human letter C. Somehow her partner manipulated the arrow so that it was on the bowstring.

Natasha glanced at his face. His eyes were cold, determined. He knew he only had one shot, but he wasn't stressed or nervous. He was eerily relaxed.

"It's just an act, little birdie. Caw caw." Clint muttered under his breath.

He bent his knee, drawing the bowstring taunt.

"Caw caw." He repeated and took the shot.

Bullseye!

The cuffs came off and Clint let his bow fall to the floor before gracefully righting himself. He put on his boots and picked up his bow and arrow. Natasha stared at him in astonishment, in awe of the skill required to make a shot like that.

"Looks like I finally managed to surprise you, Nat."

The Black Widow didn't miss how his voice had wobbled.

"How did you do that?" She asked.

He shrugged nonchalantly, "It's just a trick I picked up at the circus."

He was good at hiding his emotions, but Nat could tell he was shaken.

Clint cleared his throat. "Well, shall we Black Widow?"

"I suppose we should, Hawkeye."


	3. A Master's Act

This mission was finally over. It had been gruelling and everyone was exhausted. Then the press showed up.

They had made it to the entrance of Avengers Tower without being detected. But when they heard a camera flash, they gave a collective groan. Clint spoke up first.

"I'll deal with them. You guys go up."

Tony turned.

"You Barton?"

Clint rolled him eyes.

"Yes, me. Seriously, tin head. You guys need it."

"So, do you." Natasha spoke up.

"I'll be up in ten minutes."

They left Clint behind to deal with the press.

When the Avengers reached their floor, Natasha turned on the news. They saw Clint getting crowded by reporters.

Then Clint sighed and pulled out an arrow. He shot it into the air above him and it detonated. Every one fell silent.

"Ladies and gentlemen, your attention please!" When Clint spoke, it was different, louder and more commanding.

"Now you have all come from far and wide to witness the spectacle that is The Avengers! But their greatness is beyond most people's comprehension. Only the strong can witness them after such an incredible battle as they have just fought. Fear not, you might still have what it takes! He who can draw my bow is most certainly strong enough to see The Avengers in person. So, step right up and try your luck!"

As Clint spoke, the crowd seemed to be drawn to him. Entangled in his words, people seemed to lose their judgment as, one by one, the reporters stepped up to try and draw his bow. It was eerily familiar. Everyone seemed to forget that Clint was Hawkeye, an Avenger, and they had witnessed him, no problem. And the cherry on top? No one could draw the bow.

"I'm sorry folks, but the bow has spoken. Until next time!" Clint shot a grappling hook arrow at the top of the tower, taking care to make it look easy. Then, he was pulled up.

When he walked into the living room, a minute or so later, the Avengers just stared at him.

"What?" He asked. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No. That was incredible! Who knew you had such a way with words?" Tony asked.

"Actually, Tony, words and I have a sort of love-hate relationship."

"What do you mean?" The billionaire asked.

"You haven't figured it out yet? Oh man! And you call yourself a genius."

Clint sighed. Then proceeded to not explain himself. For once, even Tony got the hint and backed off.

"So, Clint, why couldn't any of those reporters so much as draw the bow." Steve asked, changing the subject.

"Draw weight. They must all be weak." Clint said almost proud.

"Draw weight?" Steve asked.

"It's the amount of force an archer has to use to draw the bow to its peak, right?" Natasha filled in.

Clint nodded, "My… instructor described it as the potential energy of the arrow, but your version works too. Anyway, most men can only draw 75lb max."

"And how much can you draw?" Steve asked.

Clint paused.

"Comfortably? 250lb."

They all stared at him.

"I'm going to go have a shower." Clint excused himself.

That night tossing in her bed, it finally struck Natasha. Why Clint's voice had sounded strangely familiar.

He sounded like a ringmaster.

 **So sorry for the delay. I was very busy in real life but I will try to update more frequently.**

 **Pop**


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